Ray Stevens - Armchair Quarterback lyrics

Well, the season's finally here and
The players hit the field
And every man feels like a boy
And every wife could kill
He's been buying beer since August
Running hot and running cold and
Thirty friends are on alert
That's all the den will hold!

He's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of
Beer and full of snacks
The all-American man
With a cool one in his hand
The Armchair Quarterback he's kind of
Fun and kind of fat the all-American man
With a cool one in his hand
Now if you stand and block the screen
You may just lose your life
And that goes for all thirty friends
And the thirty friends' wives
Then the den falls silent we just
Need a yard or two
They wouldn't change that channel now if
The Rockettes came on nude
The announcer agrees with the referee but
The den does not at all
And thirty fists are clinched in hate
And pound upon the wall
Why any fool could see he made
That first down when he dived!
If Howard Cosell came in now
He'd never get out alive

'Cause he's the Armchair
Quarterback he's full
Of beer and full of snacks
The all-American man
With a cool one in his hand

The wives are all disgusted and
They're meeting in the yard
On their way to wear the
Numbers off our credit cards
(Shop, shop, shop)

He's got his six year old son, Billy
Sittin' on the floor
Watching college wrap-up and writing
Down the scores
There stands uncle Andy bending empty cans
"For god sakes, andy
Get that cool one out of Billy's hand!"
Well, what do you know it's half time
Where's the bathroom tell me please
Don't go outside 'cause the neighbors
Dog bites everything he sees

Well if they make it through the Super
Bowl well she'll be happy then
'Cause she'll get back her TV and
He'll give up the den
He'll be tired and incoherent and he
Will not know his name
But he'll lift one eyelid just to say: "wake
Me up for the ol' score game!"
With a cool one in his hand
Broken pretzels in the rug
The beer cans could be worse
She'll clean it up tomorrow
And dread September first
When once againha ha

The season's finally here and the
Players hit the field
And every man feels like a boy
And every wife could kill
He's been buying beer since August
Running hot and running cold
And thirty friends are on alert
That's all the den will hold

He's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of
Beer and full of snacks
The all-American man
With a cool one in his hand
Yeah, the Armchair Quarterback he's kind of
Fun and kind of fat the all-American man
With a cool one in his hand